Under the Sun
by taekemeaway
Summary: "There will be a time, son of Thrain, son of Thror, when your hatred and mistrust will cause those you hold dear to abandon you. But not I. No matter how hard you push me away I will forever remain by your side, just as I promised." Thorin/OC, spanning 2760 TA through 2941 TA / Slight AU with Thorin 15 years older
1. I - A Chance Meeting

**Under the Sun**

 **Third Age of the Sun ; 2760** \- **_A Chance Meeting_**

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There was once a young prince of an old dwarven kingdom, he was proud and tenacious, a true son of the house of Durin. He stood tall as he looked out over the land in which he would one day rule. Beside him was his father, Thráin, his hand resting on his son's shoulder with pride. It was an important occasion in Erebor, the birth of Dís, the younger sister of the prince. She was the first daughter of Durin born in centuries, and it was to be her eldest brother's duty to hunt the meal meant to honour her in the celebration of her birth.

"Here, my son." His father offered with crossbow in hand. "You are still young, but I know you are capable of this task given to you."

The prince nodded, smiling grateful as he accepted the weapon given to him. "Thank you, father. I will not fail you."

With determination, he left the ramparts to retrieve his chainmail and trek out into the wilderness. First, he had to pass through the bustling streets of Dale. As he passed, men and women bowed in respect of the alliance between their peoples, between Lord Girion and the King under the Mountain, the prince's grandfather. He bowed in return for their kindness before making for the woods at the edge of the kingdom.

Once he broke the treeline, his attention narrowed. He knew what needed to be done, what was expected of him, and nothing could break his iron-clad purpose. With his weapon raised, his senses honed in on his surroundings, he trained his focus towards the slightest sound, letting lesser game escape his clutches but keeping his attention on his desired prize.

Several hundred paces in and he was no closer to finding his target. The forest was still, the bigger game had perhaps sensed him approach, scurried to the far edges of the Greenwood, but failure was not an option. His brethren were relying on him, counting on him. Shaking off the negative air sticking to his skin, he set his resolve, secured his grip and trekked even deeper into the woods, deeper than he'd ever been before.

Finally, he caught sign of something worthy enough to feast on. Fresh tracks in the dirt pointed to the possible location of his prey and he followed them as best he could. There was excitement in the princes eyes, this would be the first time he would down such large game on his own, and he couldn't wait to present it at the feast. The look on his father's face, his brother's, it was enough to fuel him further. But first he had to find it, and he knew he was close.

Then, without warning, he saw the prongs of a large buck not twenty paces in front of him. The light of a mid-afternoon sun shone against the silhouette of the creature, giving the young prince a perfect target. He raised his crossbow, trained the sights on his prize, tightened his grip and pulled the trigger. He watched it as it struggled, watched it stumble and limp off a ways before settling helplessly in the brush.

Securing the bow to his back, he approached his kill, a smug look on his face. He pushed past low hanging branches, following the trail of blood until he came to a clearing in the wood. All around him, flowers of every colour reaching up towards the sun, small animals scurrying every which way, butterflies flitting around like playful wisps. He's passed the deer he felled, but for the moment he didn't remember what he came into the forest to accomplish, didn't even care.

He wasn't caught up in the splendor long as a light off in the distance caught his eye. It was the envoy from the Elven kingdom at their borders, come to give tribute to the arrival of his sister. They each noticed the prince, bowing their heads slightly with gentle smiles on their ethereal faces. He offered similar gestures in return, until he met the gaze of a young woman walking abreast her mount.

She paused, just as he. Something about her entranced the prince, she was beautiful, yes, but it wasn't just her beauty that caused him to stop in his tracks. The way the sun shone on her golden hair, it reminded him of the metals buried deep in the mountains he called home. Home. That is perhaps what he felt when he gazed upon her, something he only felt in the embrace of his mother, or the booming voice of his father, the curious inquiries from his brother, the lightest touch from his sister. There was something about this girl that felt - like anything the young prince did, if he did it by her side, he would never fail.

"Anariel!" Someone called out at the head of the envoy.

Startled, and perhaps just as confused as he was, she stole one last glance at the young prince before scurrying off towards those who wished for her presence. Feeling an odd warmth he hadn't noticed seep from him, he shook his head in bewilderment, wondering who the young woman was, and if he'd be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of her once more.

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	2. II - A Friend in the Night

**Under the Sun**

 **Third Age of the Sun ; 2941 - _A Friend in the Night_**

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There would be a point in his journey, Bilbo knew this from the start, that he would be completely outmatched. Still, this seemed like a problem he could solve, missing ponies, he was to find out what happened to them, report back to Fíli and Kíli, give them their dinner and be on his way. And yet, there he was, peering around a boulder at a trio of particularly nasty looking trolls, completely overwhelmed, as he predicted. Now, he'd never seen trolls before, but these three looked particularly brutish. They were talking about adding their mucus to their stew and -

 _I think I might vomit._

But, he had to save the ponies. No one else could since Fíli and Kíli had run off to who knows where. So he mustered every ounce of courage in his tiny little breast and scurried off towards the brush to remain out of sight. The trolls though, they were quite large, but they were also being rather loud. Perhaps it wasn't completely hopeless after all. To ease his nerves whilst crawling down on his knees, he began muttering words of encouragement to spur himself forward.

"It could be worse," he mumbled, "and they're right! Trolls are stupid, sluggish, quite large, and could probably squash me and spread me on toast like jam -"

He stopped momentarily, realising the words he meant to bolster his confidence were only deterring him further. Letting out a sigh, he continued on, padding his way through mud and bones and whatever else trolls liked to keep beside them as they ate. Eventually, and gratefully, he came to the pen encircling the ponies, when something caught his eye.

It was yellow in colour, almost luminescent, and it was wriggling like it was trapped. He had to narrow his eyes to see it clearer, but he was almost taken aback once he realised what it was. It was a woman, of all things. Trolls would truly eat anything. That didn't bode well for him, or her.

He came to her side in a single rush, falling to his knees as he looked at the rope used to bind her. It was thick and hard for him to get his hands around, in the end he opted to simply take out the cloth gagging her and see if she was injured. It was the least he could do.

"Are you alright?" He whispered.

She nodded, coughing as quietly as she could into her hands while the trolls squabbled with each other behind them. "Yes, thank you so much."

Bilbo had only looked away for a second, but when he turned back the woman had freed herself from the rope around her hands, seemingly with nothing but her teeth.

"Are you here with anyone? Anyone that could help?" She asked under her breath, peering out over his shoulder while rubbing her raw wrists.

He nodded. "My company is just past the clearing in the rock a ways, at least two of them know I'm here."

A look of pure relief crossed her face. "You're with the dwarves, aren't you?"

For a moment, he was taken aback. "Y-yes, how did you -"

"Nevermind that," she interrupted, "if you want to free your ponies, you're going to need to get that knife off that one's belt."

As she pointed off towards the one who so lovingly provided the floater their stew needed to improve the flavour, Bilbo felt a lump rising in his throat. "Y-you're sure that's the only way?"

She nodded, a solemn look on her face. "I know it's not ideal, but the knife I have on me isn't going to get us anywhere fast. Even if we use it to cut through the bindings. By the time you sawed through the rope with my dagger, even those dumb louts would've caught sight of you."

Still not in the least bit confident, Bilbo struggled to swallow before nodding hesitantly to his new comrade.

"Hey, what's your name?" She asked suddenly, taking hold of his arm.

"B-Bilbo Baggins of Bag End."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Baggins, my name is Anariel." She responded in kind. "Now stop making that face like I'm going to make you do this on your own, I've got the plan that'll hopefully have us walking away from this soon enough."

He let out a shaky laugh, just before one of the trolls shifted and they collectively decided to throw themselves out of view.

"We better get moving before their rumbling bellies cause them to serve their meals a bit more raw than we'd like." She whispered to him as a panicked look crossed his face. "You'll be fine, Mr Baggins, I'll move round to his right side to loosen that belt of his, but that means you'll have to catch that knife before it hits the ground, alright?"

Finally having some semblance of a plan helped put the hobbit at ease. He nodded briskly and was about ready to follow her towards the trolls when they suddenly turned towards them.

"I hope you're gonna gut these nags, I don't like their stinky parts!" The one with the knife proclaimed as he stood.

"Why'd you have to go and tie up that skinny one, anyway! I'm hungry!"

"Shut up, both of ya!" The cook shouted, whacking them both upside the head with his spoon. "And you, I told you to sit down!"

There was some shrieking on behalf of the trolls, and then some nose blowing. The whole scene was rather, disgusting.

"Go now, Bilbo, while they're distracted." Anariel suddenly hissed between her teeth as she slinked off behind the pony pen, her golden hair mysteriously losing it's ethereal glow.

He wasn't prepared yet, for a moment he just stared at the spot where she once was. Contemplating his situation, wondering what the bloody hell he was doing, and how he even got into this situation in the first place. Still, he continued on with the plan, after taking some very deep breaths and thinking about his home, his hearth, honestly anything that wasn't the trolls looming over him.

It was hard, but he managed to ignore the unintelligent babble spouting from their lips, instead focusing on the incredibly sensitive task at hand. He kept his eyes trained on Anariel, and she on him. She was just at his belt, but careful to keep out of sight from the one who had stolen the ponies. Gently anw quietly, she remained in the shadow of the creatures leg, reaching up only the slightest bit to snag an edge of his belt.

When the troll stood to scratch its rear, both her and Bilbo had to take a moment to stop their hearts from giving out. Giving each other a reassuring glance, they pressed on. Bilbo readied his hands for the drop of the blade, and Anariel grabbed hold of the tie on his belt to loosen it when -

The damned creature grabbed for the rag he used as a handkerchief and ended up grabbing hold of Bilbo instead. The poor hobbit was used instead, troll boggies smeared all over his waistcoat. Anariel truly felt sorry for the lad.

Then, the one screamed as he saw Bilbo dangling in his hands.

"Blimey!" He cried. "Bert, Bert! Look what's come out of me 'ooter! It's got arms an' legs an' everything!"

Carefully, Anariel moved towards the clearing in the rocks, hopefully the company of dwarves hadn't fled and would be close enough to lend their friend a hand. But, she couldn't bear to leave the poor thing on his own. She still had her knife, she could stick one of their toes if it needed doing.

"What is it?" One of the trolls asked.

"I don't know, but I don't like the way it wriggles around!"

Without warning, Bilbo was shook free of the troll's rag and onto the ground. Anariel was prepared to step forth, to sneak around and attempt to distract the beasts when someone grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her deep into the brush.

"Anariel?" They growled, a familiar face to say the least. "What in Durin's name are you doing here?"

She couldn't help but smile at an old friend. "Did you think that I'd let you partake on this quest alone, Thorin? How long have you known me?"

"You should not be here!" He snarled under his breath. "You'll only get in our way!"

"And that, my love, is entirely untrue."

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